The Ghosts in the Fog
by Petite09
Summary: Violet stands to inherit a newly restored Talbot Hall from distant relatives and when she enters foggy Blackmoor, she finds evidence of a great tragedy that connects her to an otherworldly presence that welcomes her into the jaws of an awful mystery.
1. Chapter 1

**~*Author's Note*~**

**Writing and posting 'Under the Harvest Moon' has made me a little bold, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. I went to see 'The Wolf Man' with my parents for my birthday and prior to leaving for South Beach I had this urge to write something. I will continue writing my other story but I want to build a new tale and I hope you all will enjoy it and will want to see more. This is a slow trial to build up to what I could write if there's enough interest. I love old horror movies, I love the Universal Monsters and Lon Chaney Jr. was a remarkable actor with or without the fur and so I have a soft spot for the remake though it was panned by almost everyone. Maybe this story will get better reviews, who knows. Without further adieu, I present 'Ghosts in the Fog' **

*****

From the pictures and the stories she had always known this place and yet had never physically set eyes on it, until now. She was aware of the eyes on her back gauging any reactions she would form, some laced with concern. But her duties dictated that she must make the trek and see what had haunted her dreams for so many years. The reconstruction of the west wing was progressing nicely even though she had never seen such destruction. What remained of the manor was absolutely inhabitable; however that end was under repair as well. She only blinked when the horse snorted, and when she turned a weathered face toward her, with haunted eyes.

"Your father is a coward to send a child to survey his cursed property for him,"

"But someday it'll be mine so I should take the opportunity,"

The old woman twisted her deeply wrinkled face up into a tortured grimace, but suppressed the urge to argue. As her father said, old Mary Tillingham was just like the estate she despised—old, ruined and full of mystery that no one asked for. But she had always guided and protected her from the time of her birth, to when her mother was locked away until this present moment. There were speculations that Mary was as mad as a hatter yet none could deny how her devotion and wisdom had served to raise a remarkable young woman. However she had never managed to break Violet's unbelievable loyalty to her yellow-backed father, which greatly troubled the old nurse.

Violet desired to rectify the blunders of her mother by yielding to her father's whims that proved incredibly outputting. Sending her at barely eighteen years old to act as a proxy on his venture was one of several occasions where he neglected his responsibilities. None of this ever offended Violet for she knew the horrors the man had suffered, how his wife had tormented him during her illness and gave no qualms about her dedication. As she lifted her skirt away from the gravel driveway and approached the front door, she felt something heavy clinging to her as if hands were grasping her arms and invisibly guiding her forward. The smell of earth and new stone mingling with the old foundation assaulted her nostrils. So familiar, she mused, this place that drew her like a moth to a flame; so much so she thought her hand would feel heat when she grasped the large iron handle. Only then did she notice the slight trembling in her fingers, but they stilled the moment she pushed the door back, letting it swing away and reveal a dark front parlor. The only illumination available was from the newly restored glass window further along the vestibule.

Talbot Hall.

"You needn't do this child, you can leave this unholy land now and we can continue on as planned. Remember?"

Violet ignored the matronly plea and took her first bold steps over the threshold and turned to look back at the coach. A small smile crept over her lips as she sought to reassure her elderly companion of well-being. Nothing to worry about was the silent mantra that she silently chanted as she pulled off her kidskin gloves and twirled around to take in this part of the house, but remained aware that she could not venture too far. There was more to see of the grounds, more to examine and enjoy all the pleasantries a district called Blackmoor could offer. Blackmoor had become an even more isolated enclave in Llanwelly than the last time Mary had dared tramp through its foggy plains. But for Violet this would be more than a discarded errand pressed upon her by her father. No, she was determined to have an adventure, the one that had beckoned to her for as long as she could remember. Her tutor, Mr. Harris had explained, despite a quiet unease that stinted his voice, that she was a distant relative of the Talbots.

This gave the legal property rights to fall to her father and ultimately to her. Someday she would own the biggest estate in the area and would profit greatly from its livestock or if she wished its sale. That thought left a coppery taste in her mouth, as if to speak it was an evil let alone think it. The door which led to the piano room was left ajar and she quickly slipped inside before Mary could forbade her. The room, as Mr. Harris had conveyed had been horribly damaged due to a fire that spread to engulf much of the house. But the room felt so right to her as if she belonged within its walls and when she looked to the oversized hearth, her disappointment at not seeing anything over the mantelpiece was baffling. Something should be there but she couldn't decide what; perhaps a coat of arms or maybe a prized sword. She took a few closer steps and placed a dainty hand to the marble and yet her eyes never left that empty space. A cold sweat broke out across her brow and she felt her throat dry suddenly, all simultaneous with her racing heart beat. Alarmed she stepped back before a flash of light struck across her eyes, blinding her in seconds but still her mind conjured the image of a frame. As soon as the light came it left her and stole her breath away.

The ornate picture frame was on fire and she could feel the heat on her skin, smell the burning canvas and the smoke choked her.

"Dear God, child! The air in here is stale, come with me."

Mary was upon her before she could react and she gave no protest when the old woman began dragging her back into the vestibule and out into the open air.

"How could the air be stale? They had long since opened the house and begun repairing it,"

Mr. Harris leapt down from his position next to the driver to inquire about his charge. He was at her side within seconds and pulled her away from Mary long enough to help her into the cabin of the coach and then assisted the governess. Violet's coughing had subsided and yet that didn't stop her distressed chaperones from taking a seat beside her.

"I just don't understand—"

"Harris, you must know that a few open doors and windows will not purify the air in that house. The air here, the air in Blackmoor carries putrid particles like the death angel in Egypt." Mary retorted as she blotted Violet's moist forehead with her handkerchief.

"We will continue on to our rooms at the inn and get settled," Mr. Harris determined as he tapped the roof of the coach to signal the driver. "I believe that is quite enough excitement for one day, yes?"

********

Mary sipped her ale slowly, taking the bitter taste in and tried to discern whether or not she enjoyed it or not. With that same crooked grimace she set the tin cup down and looked to the plate adjacent to her own and found it barely touched. The grimace curled as she snapped two gnarled fingers, drawing the young woman's attention. Violet gave a blush and an apologetic smile before snatching up her fork and began to slowly consume the local cuisine. Much recovered from her episode her appetite had fallen second to her abundant curiosity. Harris had gone to secure their luggage was promptly delivered to the Howling Man inn and was meandering about, to get a feel of the community. They were scheduled to remain in Blackmoor for two weeks and then take a train to the coast and sail west. Violet had initially thought relocating to America for a three month visit would be the highlight of her spring, but this damp rural topography interested her far more. While Mary resumed her drink she found nothing inviting about the place, especially in a dark tavern. The curious and suspicious eyes put her on alert but Violet found everything quaint and picturesque, so different from the animated and teeming streets of London. She was oblivious of the whispers and the movements of the men and women gathered, but Mary's eyes blared back into her possible opponents with the same intensity. She noticed how the bar wench had grudgingly taken their order and served with a cold stare, and to Mary their behavior was simply un-Christian.

"_God-damn Talbots, cur-sed murderin' lot!_"

Violet blinked her gray eyes and lowered her fork to her beans and turned her head in the direction of the voice. In a distant corner where the swinging candle chandelier make only one leg visible, the voice croaked and slurred again.

"The last fuckin' thing that Blackmoor needs is _more damn bloody Talbots!_"

Mary was already to her feet, like a boxer prepared to throw the first punch when another man rose and ordered silence from the offending man. With a scoff the man in the corner extended his arm and grasped a crutch and struggled to stand only to stumble forward and smash against the floor boards. Violet instinctively hurried over to assist only to have that same filthy arm lash out at her, barely missing her as the crippled man roared to be left alone. Lying on his belly he thrashed about before two other gentlemen visiting the tavern gathered up the drunk and pulled him away. Only then did she understand that alcohol had not alone hindered him and his disabilities far more extensive than she realized. A war veteran she assumed for how else could a man have but one arm and one leg?

Her nurse pulled her away and began directing her toward the exit when a woman blocked their path. The bar wench that had acted so distant when serving their meals, was standing with her hands on her bony hips. Her eyes looked large and her face sunken which exaggerated her stare, with thin lips pulled into a tight line that caused Violet to wonder for a moment if she would speak at all.

"You're to blame for what happened to that man," the woman accused through clenched rotted teeth, "Eighteen years ago he was a promising barrister and now he's become nothing but a shell of a human being."

"What has a child to do with the tragedies of a man she'd never set eyes on in her life?" Mary inquired as she placed two hands on either of her charge's shoulders.

"Talbots were and are responsible for every miserable occurrence in Blackmoor, the worse being nearly two decades ago."

A few heads nodded and people mumbled their agreement.

"I'm not _a Talbot_, I'm _a Pierce_ and I've never been here before," Violet interjected as she took a step forward.

The bar wench raised her chin higher at the challenge and grunted as she reiterated her claims and announced that the name itself meant nothing, not when Violet had Talbot blood running through her veins. Confused Violet began to question her accuser as to what role a relative of hers would play in severing a man's limbs. The very idea was preposterous and if so many people didn't believe it, she would also say laughable; she pondered as to what other misfortunes and atrocities had been attached to the Talbot family by these backward villagers. Before she could ask Mary was bidding everyone a terse goodnight and hastily pushing her inquisitive woman-child around the bar wench and out into the street.

"What rubbish these people eat with their evening meal," Violet exclaimed as they settled into a walk. "Can you believe those yokels would say and believe such ridiculous claims? Honestly people like that will bring down the Empire."

Mary did not respond and led her charge to the inn with the intentions of informing Mr. Harris what had happened; not only that there were other more pressing situations that required their undivided attention. She made a mental note to see Violet tucked away in her bed before she met with the tutor. They would meet out of earshot of everyone and therefore the tavern was not possible when all eyes of the community were upon them. She was sure the tutor would either dispel her words as trite and fantastical or he would absorb them and help convince Violet that Talbot Hall was no place for a lovely young woman.

The young woman in question was still seething under the weight of the accusations that had been unjustly launched at her. She assumed Mary would shrug off what had just transpired as just the ravings of frightened, prejudiced and ignorant people who had never travelled beyond the town limits. Violet was prepared for her to quill all the shadows that could spark oddity or cause her young mind to be filled with nonsense. But she was jolted from her thoughts when the familiar whine of a house sounded behind them. Mr. Harris rode up alone with the coach sporting a strained countenance, one that matched her governess. He offered no greetings when the horses halted and wordlessly their eyes met, confirming that he had also received a cold welcome. Moments later they were back in the interior and the horses were at full gallop, the direction they took was clearly toward Talbot Hall and she felt a usual calm settling over her, as if she were heading home. She rationalized it as a welcome reprieve from the narrow-minded residents that frequented the town. The words of the bar wench had uttered were laced with passion and hatred and the looks of disdain on the patrons alarmed her. Naturally she wished to know what would cause so many people to fear her arrival or a singular family. What had happened nearly twenty years ago had obviously rocked Blackmoor to its core and left all who survived either physically or mentally scarred.

"We will spend the night in Talbot Hall and I'm afraid it will be the first of many nights and days until we can contact your father and find better lodging."

"Better lodging?" Violet asked, one soft dark brow raised. "Talbot hall is nearly complete and quite inhabitable. The bedrooms are newly furnished and the beds are mad and there is food stored. In fact the whole point of coming here was to reside at the estate, not go—"

"_This place is not safe for anyone!_" Mary screeched. "Where we are going seems to be the lesser of two evils, at the moment and the security that the estate provides will keep the local lunatics out. But what lurks within…"

The elderly woman's voice dropped to a low whisper with the last statement and she looked away to gaze out the window of the coach, signaling that no more was to be said on the subject. Though anxiety to question her further boiled in her veins, Violet respected the silence that stretched between them. She silently swore an oath to herself that she would uncover all that this town and that estate was hiding, whether her guardians cared or not.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before Mary decided to speak and when she did she used a tone that required nothing but quiet acceptance from Violet.

"Tomorrow I will interview new members of the staff, including a cook, scullery maids, a butler and the like. They will remain here even when we have made a return to one of your father's homes in Bath or London. You are to not interrupt these proceedings unless necessary and Mr. Harris will be assisting me. I suggest either the gardens or better yet the library as suitable locations for you to occupy."  
Violet made no move to protest and again the women resumed their silence. The rising stone crests of Talbot Hall were within sight and the young women felt the tug of a smile on her lips and flutter in her chest. As if eager to see a loved one that drew her thoughts at every turn that caused her great pain to be separated. She wanted to leap from the carriage entirely and sprint the rest of the distance into its foggy embrace. Never having the benefit of male companionship on intimate levels she had little to personally compare this sensation, yet this didn't change these urges to curl into the belly of this house and find the solace that had long eluded her.

Only when she felt the cool temperature of the glass window did she see her breath clouding and her forehead was pressed against it. If Mary had said anything she was truly oblivious and when she thought her chest would explode under the pressure of her heart beat, the softest of airs flowed across her ear, like someone whispering to her. Though she was sure a started response would be appropriate, the effect was quite different for she settled back into the seat and gave a great sigh of what felt remarkably like relief. There was something more than curses and bad air swirling around Talbot Hall and she did not believe it meant her harm. On the contrary she felt very welcome.

*****

**I don't own the Wolf Man story, neither '41 nor '10, thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**~*Author's Note*~**

** I want to thank everyone one for the abundance of support that has been shown for this story to continue. I haven't gotten many reviews which is disappointing but understandable since people may want to see where I'm going with this until reviewing. But there have been favorites and story alerts and it just keeps me excited. I'm collaborating with my brother on how to carry out the story line and he's keeping things fresh and exciting for me so I hope you all will enjoy the end result. **

*****

The library had sustained damage from the fire and subsequent neglect from years of abandonment but now new volumes lined the new shelves, many having accumulated in her father's private study. But the majority of the books had never been read but was merely to give the illusion of an erudite mind with a thirst for varied genres and subjects. Roland Pierce was relieved to be rid of such literary clutter to make room for more because he always had to appear to be abreast of the newest compositions. Usually after dinner Violet would sit at her father's knee on a small cushion like a lap dog and read aloud from the books and he would regurgitate what he had heard when amongst his peers. Obviously this was wrong but it gave Violet access to all sorts of stories and studies that otherwise would be prohibited to a girl her age. Indeed reading about the virtues of motherhood was rather humdrum next to one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's latest publications or a scholarly journal provided by the Royal Society of Science. But none of this held nearly as much allure as that mausoleum.

She had no access to family records and she was sure that a trip to the town notary was out of the question. Her anxiety was building to explore it up close but Mary wouldn't hesitate to box her ears if she slipped away in the middle of the day. The interest for employment had brought about ten people to their door for varying positions and she doubted any would be turned away. An estate the size of Talbot Hall required an extensive staff to turn into a thriving and profitable investment. Still Violet actually wished fewer people had come for that would free her guardians sooner. And though the grounds were nearly complete the gardens was nothing but weeds and overgrown shrubbery. So the library was her only option and she felt like she was suffocating.

Usually she cradled the books in her possession with the utmost care but her nerves caused her to toss aside her copy of Cicero and pace the imported rug. Despite the significance of having the trust of her father to take on such responsibility she was still looked upon as a child, incapable of mature thinking or solitude with some supervision. Secretly she resented all of it, even requiring Mary's assistance lacing up her undergarments and putting on her shoes. No doubt at least two maids would be assigned to constantly bath, feed and clothe her as if she were an infant.

"I have every right to survey these grounds if I so wish."

With that she was grabbing the white lace shawl lying across the arm of one antique high back chair and drew it on about her shoulders. Beyond the remains of the garden was a long reflecting pool and further back the mausoleum. The shade of the vegetation would provide excellent cover should anyone look from the door or window. Furthermore she had no intentions to try and pry her way into the sealed tomb, not even she was that bold. In her dark blue cotton day dress with fewer ruffles than her more upscale garments, she didn't feel the chill of the air that plagued this area and soon she was closing the double doors behind her and trotting down the flat stone path that led down a small hill.

"This will probably be a grand place to have a picnic one they hire a proper gardener," Violet mused aloud as she took in the ruined beauty of the oxidized fountain.

The water had long since stopped spurting from the Grecian statuary and the pool was filled with dead leaves. As she knelt down with a careful arrangement of her skirts and ran her fingers along the edge of the stone. In a second a wind lifted up from the west and pushed against her with a force that sent her huddling to the fountain. Seeds from the clusters of weeds flew into the air, captured and twirled around her even as she swatted them away. When a normal breeze would have ebbed, this one pressed her relentlessly and only when she cried out did it gradually being to dissipate. Her chest rose and fell like that of a rabbit and when she looked up from her folded arms, a gasp tore from her lips.

The garden had been transformed from a desolate and bleak space to a colorful and vibrant haven. The box hedges were full and neatly clipped and the flowers sprang out proudly with fresh blooms and heady perfume. As her eyes surveyed the miracle, she leapt away from the fountain. The statues glinted a brilliant gold as nymphs poured small cascades from stone jars into a working pool. With a tremor she crawled to the pool's edge and saw her own reflection staring back at her, as if the leaves had never been there at all. This place looked as if no one had ever abandoned this place but had lovingly tended to the garden to cultivate a wonderland of a sanctuary. But this was definitely a dream for she had just seen the sadness that punctuated every nook and cranny, yet with a quick wipe at her eyes she couldn't dismiss the hallucination. Uncertain of what could cause such an apparition, she thrust her index finger into the pool and snatched it out, her pupils dilating as she found clear moisture on the tip.

"Impossible," she whispered in astonishment.

Again she reached into the water and with more boldness, she swirled her hand in the cool liquid, sending ripples through it and it glistened in the sun as if jewels sat at the bottom. Violet couldn't suppress the smile that had lurked under the surface, this place was truly breathtaking and the evidence of his validity was drying on her hand. Her first thought was to find Mary and Mr. Harris and bring them to this magical place and let them stand witness. But as she rose to leave, intending to return immediately yet was struck to stillness as two small boys with their chins resting on their arms as they meet her gaze with amused expressions. They looked like angels dressed in white shirts and their dark eyes sparkled beneath their black wind-swept hair. Above them stood a woman with a countenance that matched the boys, presumably their mother. Dressed in a white dress with wide sleeves and a round hoop skirt, the raven-haired beauty appeared regal, yet personable. Her red lips curled in a smile, as if she knew something—something Violet should now.

"_Violet!_"

Her head snapped away and turned to the double doors and found Mary standing at the perch of the stair.

"Mary, oh, I'm so glad you came out here!" Violet exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. "Look at how beautiful—"

Violet turned back to the fountain and felt the air hitch in her throat and a hand flew to her chest. The glorious garden with lush fruits of spring and a serene-working fountain had reverted back to a dismal lot. She turned about in disbelief and dropped to her knees by the pool and again found it dry and covered in rotting foliage. Mary looked on with a scrunched face as the girl rushed about as if she'd lost something of great importance. Violet mumbled and ran her fingers through her loose tresses with the most distressed appearance.

"Child what has gotten into you?"

"_The garden!_ It's…Mary if you had seen how much it looked like a—"

"A nursery for crabgrass and weeds?" Mary interjected, crossing her arms.

"No, no, no. There were flowers and the lawns were manicured, the fountain worked and glittered. And then there was a woman and two small boys, they were just here Mary, I swear to you it was all here!"

Mary blinked and swallowed hard as the young woman attempted in vain to recount what she had seen. She listened and stepped forward and all tried to appear sympathetic and believing when internally she felt a sense of eerie foreboding and fear was coiling in her stomach. Fresh tears were rising in those gray eyes that she knew so well and when she embraced her charge, she swore an oath to see Violet safely back in London as soon as their two weeks had ended. She shushed the girl down and swayed with her against her chest as she'd done so many times before.

"You believe me don't you? I saw it all Mary, you know I wouldn't lie about this sort of thing."

"I believe you, child, but you must know that fretting won't help. You should come lie down for a while Mr. Harris concludes the last of the interviews. This place is full of questions with no answers and it had too many memories. That and Mr. Harris has been offering you sweet meats without having a proper meal…"

Wiping her eyes, Violet looked away from her governess as she chastised her while offering a comforting shoulder to cry on. Only Mary, she thought and allowed the old woman to lead her away with great reluctance. She continued to steal glances back at the garden as if willing the miracle to return. So engulfed was she in trying to summon the impossible she did not see the deeply strained look that contorted Mary's weathered features. As she guided the distraught girl back through the corridors and up the stairs, the governess pondered the frantic but sincere words her charge had said and felt that sense of dread, the one that had sprouted when she first learned of their coming here, expand.

The descriptions were strangely similar to the memories that she had thought long banished. But Talbot Hall didn't want to forget its history no matter how unfortunate, and Violet, already overly sensitive was acting as a gateway. Mary swore quietly under her breath as she thought of how many days remained before they could leave. She honestly would rather subject Violet to the trials of the Season in London than to have the unknown toy with an innocent in her care.

"There, there child, you should lie down and place these troubled thoughts aside and rest before lunch. It's almost time for your noonday nap anyway."

"But the garden—"

"Is off limits until they fix it up," Mary chirped with an authoritative tone. "And tomorrow I will have a doctor sent to examine you to make sure you are not coming down with anything."

"_I'm not sick, Mary! There was woman and two small boys and they disappeared._ The woman I've seen before but I can't place her or her name. This is all so frustrating."

Mary's response was to gently force the girl onto the settee of her sitting room adjacent to her suite and softly demanded silence and slumber. The threat in the old nurse's eyes quelled the argument and a defeated Violet snuggled into the cream colored cushions and pillows as a blanket was drafted over her. This conversation would have continued had that look and a powerful yawn not stifled her. Her normal routine and the excitement were overwhelming, but her resolve to investigate the mausoleum and the garden were undeterred.

*****

**By the way, the mystery woman has a dress from the 1860s, the Wolfman actually takes place in the late 1880s, early 1890s and since this takes place approximately eighteen years later, my story happens in the 1910s probably 1911 or 1912. So picture the fashions of the characters in this order by way of these characters: Scarlett O'Hara (1860s), Mina Harker (Winona Ryder) in Dracula (1880s-90s) and for Violet's clothes think Rose Dewitt Bukater (Kate Winslet) in Titanic (1910s). I just want to give a good reference point for when you're imagining my characters. XOXO**


	3. Chapter 3

**~*Author's Note*~**

**This chapter will not have a lot of action but you will meet new characters that will have an impact on the story. I've never written mystery-oriented stories with suspense until this year and I'm still flexing my muscles with this genre. I will write the next chapter that will have actual action IF I get at least five reviews. I can't give away what Violet will encounter at the mausoleum but I assure you that there will be no room for disappointment. *wink***

The next three days had been a blur of orchestrated distractions to keep her away from her adventure, that was undeniable and despicable in Violet's eyes. A flurry of activity had burst into the house with new staff acquainting themselves with the property, rules and their tasks. She had only a few moments to receive their thanks and her acknowledgements before the doctor arrived. Mary gave a carefully abridged version of events and the physician, who usually attended nothing but country bumpkins, determined the ailment derived from too much literary indulgence. Violet had fought not to rip the man's bushy eyebrows from his forehead as he berated her on the waste of scholarly periodicals on those of the fairer sex. From there the new butler, a Mr. A.L Hermann had ordered only feminine magazines be permitted into her suites until recovery. Violet had tossed them aside and scoffed at the articles, all written by men on the virtues and anatomical responsibilities of the women.

"Our monarch is a queen—_a woman_ yet these charlatans insult us left and right. This one claims that reading too much will draw blood from a lady's reproductive organs. More blood to the brain leads to barren wombs and 'the end of our God-given civilization'."

Sally, the mousy young woman with the tendency to shuffle between her feet when nervous, dodged the flimsy magazine that acted as an unintentional projectile. Within seconds the new maid assigned specifically to Violet was scurrying about the floor, collecting the scattered papers and attempted to sort the mess. Her limp pale brown hair was matted to her head as she perspired in the itchy woven gray dress she wore. Though considerably excited to find employment, Sally was finding her mistress far different from the stuffy matrons she normally assisted. Violet had an energy in her eyes and spirit that was both refreshing and alarming, and the twenty year old woman prayed for the strength to keep up with her new responsibilities. The entire morning had revolved around the bouts of a continuous shouting match between the irate Miss Pierce and the head of staff, Mr. Hermann. He had barred Violet from the library and demanded she remain sequestered for a week, to her chagrin.

"_Pure rubbish!_ I'm no _invalid_ but a vivacious woman ready to take on the world yet I don't have free reign of my own house. Mary and Mr. Harris dared to leave that ogre in charge while they flee to London. Meanwhile I am left in a house full of strangers—no offense Sally."

"None taken, mum." replied Sally as she stuck her head up from behind the settee.

"Oh don't call me that, at least not when we're alone. Violet is fine."

A small impish smile surfaced on the servant's face and she gave a nod, fighting the urge to take full liberty of the invitation and embrace her employer. Her last position had led to her being beaten with a riding crop for breaking a saucer; Violet didn't carry herself with a haughty air.

"We shall be friends, Sally, you needn't worry about that. But we can expedite the process by you burning all of that tawdry trash and never let my eyes settle on any of it again."

Sally's watery blue eyes sparkled with humor as the two erupted in laughter. While Violet buried her face in her pillows, Sally, having just neatly stacked the mass of paper gave into her mistress' spontaneity and threw them into the air with a vibrant fit of giggles. Instantly the two girls were locked in heated combat, throwing papers at one another as the sound of their merrymaking echoed down the corridor. Not since she was a child living in the northern counties had the maid had the opportunity to give into her inhibitions, so engrossed was she in her duties of servitude. Violet was simply happy to have a companion of kindred spirits and age; though her love for Mary was boundless, her nurse couldn't keep up with her at times.

But a knock at the door stilled their childish banter and before Violet could permit the intruder, the door open and the wide-bellied butler stepped forward. Sally instinctively withdrew into herself and wrung her hands as his round mouth expelled orders and demanded respectable behavior expected of a young woman. The barb was not lost on Violet and a fire rose from her gut and lit up her brilliant gray eyes.

"How dare you enter my chamber without my say and scold my maid without cause or provocation?"

"She is under my supervision and has chores to complete," he snarled back, showing his yellowed teeth.

A ghost of herself, Sally gave a quick curtsey and slipped from the room as if she'd never entered. The change had occurred so fast that it startled Violet to see the life practically drained by a single word. Hermann lifted one white brow at Violet's disheveled appearance with her ebony tresses falling wildly around her, her face flushed and her nightgown and robe wrinkled. Her response was to lift her chin and narrow her cat-like eyes to counter the butler's bravado.

"Remember sir, you are under _my employment_ and you will not look upon me with disdain when it is I who control _your position_ here at Talbot Hall."

"Yes, madam you have a great deal of sway, but it is not you who is my employer—but your father."

With that the fat balding oaf that barged into her suite unannounced left under the same fashion. Violet bit her bottom lip until she feared she'd draw blood and suppressed a growl. But his words were undeniable and she had hours to wait before she could report Hermann's insubordination to Mary and Mr. Harris. Their mission to implore her father to recall her was futile, Violet knew and they were wasting time trying to persuade him. They're main point of argument surrounded her health and safety, something she vehemently denied was a real issue. What she had seen was not the product of too much reading or bad air, despite her nurse's opinion.

In one motion she leapt from the bed and rushed to the window and took in the sight of the mausoleum, the one that had beckoned her from the moment she first laid eyes upon it. She had adhered to Mary's prohibition of the outer grounds due to possible hazards of an unkempt lawn, and the crumbling stone pathways and statuaries. But with the voice of authority, one of the only two she actually obeyed, being not within miles led to a mischievous grin lifting the side of her mouth. Gazing over her shoulder at the antique clock sitting on the mantelpiece, she saw the hour was nearing three. The lessons Mr. Harris had left for her to complete for the day were finished and at six she would sup alone in her room. Afterwards she would be dressed for bed and was expected to retire to for the night. The household would settle into their quarters and that would give her the prime opportunity to slip out under the cover of darkness.

Violet licked her lips that had suddenly gone dry and pushed herself away from the window and clasped her necklace in a silent prayer. She had no desire to enter the tomb, but wished to surround herself with the 'aura' of her distant relatives, something her mother had always advocated. How else would the house accept her if she did not offer gifts and libations to the previous owners? In that moment she wished her mother was at her side, not rotting away in bedlam, surely she would have ventured out with her. But her heretical ways had lost their novelty in her father's eyes and he saw his exotic wife more of an embarrassment and liability than an asset. For whatever reason her father had not thought his daughter deserved the same fate, and Mary speculated it was the likelihood of a pairing with a wealthy man that kept her safe.

"What a strange thing family is," she whispered as she squeezed the purple charm.

"Tonight my curiosity will be quenched."

*****

One eye remained closed as she endured the incessant tugging at invisible knots and tangles in her hair, but she didn't have the heart to snatch the ornate silver brush from Sally's hand. The maid's tongue stuck to the side of her mouth as she moved through the thick silken locks, hoping to do her task properly. Only when the brush was safely back on the marble top of the vanity did Violet breathe a sigh of relief, and made a silent oath to have only Mary attend her toilet and hairstyling. The shuffling resumed and Violet knew she would have to provide the maid with constant positive reinforcement, or resort to committing Sally to the same asylum where her mother was kept.

"Excellent work, Sally, but I think Mary should continue this particular job," Violet assured as she took a trembling hand into her own. "Mustn't offend the old goat by having her see your expertise, she's sensitive that way."

A quick smile and a wink extracted a great sigh from the maid and Violet looked heavenward with inaudible thanks. Sally, dressed in a generic cotton gown and her long hair swept in a large braid over her shoulder, prepared her mistress for bed though she found her position more ceremonial than practical. Violet was not opposed to laying out her own clothes, making her own tea and a myriad of other little chores assigned to the hired help. Increasingly Sally found within a matter of days that she admired a woman unafraid to lower herself to earth and pull her own weight. But if she didn't prove her usefulness she would find herself penniless on the streets wishing Violet would let her put on her shoes.

"Mark my words I will see Mr. Hermann on the road away from this place. He's such a beastly man, a true monster,"

"Can you really do that? No one on the staff seems to care for him and he won't let us make pleasant conversation at meals or while performing our duties." Sally exclaimed, her small mouth twisting up in disgust.

"I hope I can, or I'll get a big dog and sic him on that big bullfrog."

As always they giggled together and mused on how peaceful and comfortable life at Talbot Hall would be with certain people no longer frequenting it. Their antics continued unabated until something caught Sally's eyes and she froze with a pillow in hand. She was only brought from her waking coma when a larger feather pillow crashed against her face. Caught off guard she fell onto the armchair as continued to stare in the direction of the window. Violet grabbed another pillow, of which she had five more to utilize as a weapon and prepared to launch them when she noticed the peculiar expression on the maid's face.

"What's got you captivated? Don't pretend to be not paying attention and then try to hit me, I'm too smart for—"

"Mistress! I-I mean, Violet…_look there_!"

Furrowing her brow she saw her friend lift a finger and pulled her pillow with her as she approached, and followed Sally's line of sight. Narrowing her eyes and drawing closer to the glass she dropped the fluffy item and grasped her necklace. From beyond the garden amongst the swirling gray mists, she could see the clear glow of several lanterns gliding in fast procession. Like large fireflies dancing in the tall grass she watched them, instantly knowing where these trespassers were heading.

"W-who are they?" Sally squeaked as she clasped her mistress' arm.

"I don't know but they are drawing closer to the mausoleum,"

"What? Who would go there in the dead of night?"

Violet smiled inwardly at the question as she toyed with her charm and saw the dome of the tomb bathed in bright moonlight, making the structure look even more foreboding. The full moon gave the intruders visually more access to their destination but enough darkness permeated to conceal them in the midst; but the lanterns would draw the attention of anyone looking. Mentally Violet scoffed at the security of the estate and swore to have better protection for the grounds.

"Do you think they're grave robbers? _Body snatchers? _I've heard of how people steal the dead and sell them for awful experimentations. Ungodly it all is."

"It's possible they are after something like that, but I sure will not stand by when people desecrate sacred ground and dare cross on my land!"

Sally blinked as she registered what her brazen companion had just declared, and when she blinked again, Violet was already tying the sash on her robe.

"You can't go out there at this hour, practically naked to confront ghouls and miscreants," Sally cried as she surveyed Violet's flowing entire that covered her arms and descended passed her ankles. "You could be killed and I won't have that."

Violet gave the maid a stern look as she pulled on her satin slippers, but her face softened when she saw the tears welling up in the maid's eyes. The two had become somewhat close in the short time they found themselves in each other's company, and the genuine concern touched her. But she had already intended to take a bottle of wine and her prayer book to give a proper salutation to the deceased. Now she was about to engage in something far more exhilarating, something adventurous and tears would not act as a barrier to her ambitions.

"Listen Sally, I will not draw attention to myself and if these men are intending something devious then they'll have me to contend with,"

Her words only drove Sally's face into her hands and sobbed anew. With a heavy sigh the lionheart and the mouse embraced and Violet asked for ten minutes, twenty at the maximum once she reached the stairs of the mausoleum. Should she not return in that time Sally was to alert the men and have them come after her. Only when Sally whimpered a promise did Violet press a kiss to her friend's forehead and swore that no harm would come and no tears were necessary.

"Remember, twenty minutes at the most and when you see how I've whipped those scoundrels and sent them running like scolded dogs, you'll have a good laugh."

Another kiss found Sally's cheek and soon all the frightened woman saw was the air captured in Violet's ghostly sheer shirts. Tremors racked the poor wretch and she rushed to the vanity and seized the brush and mumbled a prayer in a shrunken voice. Sally worried her lip as she returned to the window just in time to see Violet's slight form glide out, disturbing the thick mists. With her free hand she gave her tear-drenched eyes a good rubbing but she ultimately decided it was a mere trick of the light. The mists were not enveloping Violet like long silvery fingers and arms to curl around her like a loved one's hold—no it was just the moon.

*****

**Special thanks to TalbotWolf, The Song of Luthien, Purrrrfectpixie, LittleMargarita, Dramatic Ballerina and BlackBaccaraRose for your reviews they give me such joy to read them. The next chapter will be dedicated to you all and it will give you something you can really sink your teeth into…insert evil maniacal laughter here. **


	4. Chapter 4

**~*Author's Note*~**

**I'm posting after what has been a rough year with the lost of the matriarch of my family who peacefully passed away at the age of 90. Now that I have a career and I've dealt with my loss I want to find the time to enjoy my life and continue with my compositions. I mean if I'm anything like her I'll have a long time to share but that's no reason to keep you waiting! Warning there are some graphic scenes but I know you'll enjoy!**

The damp wind wiped around her and the dew-drenched grass soaked the hemline of her gown and robe, but she continued on. Her loose ebony locks fanned out behind her and she could see her breath puff and vanish before her face. A distinct chill seeped under the thin fabric of her clothes but it was a relief to her heated flesh. With each step she drew closer to the line of lanterns that was clustering at the stone steps. There was the mumble of voices and the clanking of iron, the sound of desperation resounded amid the whispers. These men were clearly trying to break into the inner chamber where the deceased members of the Talbot family lay withered and decayed in their eternal slumber.

Violet hoped these men were rational enough to heed her warning to abandon their plans and to vacate the premises. Otherwise she wished they had sense enough to not harm a lady. Her pace slowed as she began to draw closer to the mausoleum and took in what she might actually encounter. These strange men may be anxious, unbalanced and obviously had little to no respect for the dead. Sally may have had good reason to be afraid she thought but she was already closing in on the large overgrown box hedges. She knelt down beside them and extracted the charm from around her breast and kissed it. Inside the purple stone was a miniature silver cross and thought of her mother as she uttered a prayer for strength—and survival.

"This is my land, I'll not see madmen desecrate what is to be held in reverence." Violet whispered as she peered through the hedge and took a closer look.

One man with a cap low over his forehead with a short coat and filthy trousers was trying to pry apart the double doors with a crowbar. Another man stood to the side of him, of similar dress but held a lantern up to give the first man light. Four men, two with rifles and the others with pistols meandered around to keep guard; Violet noted their locations carefully and was wearied to startle them. But the rest, being about three or four sat on the stone steps drinking and rolling cigarettes in a most casual fashion.

"Eh, _hold the light still_, will ya?"

"Sorry, Mason, sorry."

The man wielding the crowbar, Mason, was of a strong and brawny build and as he cast of his coat he revealed large round arms barely contained in his dingy white shirt. He appeared the leader of this motley crew of ghouls for he shouted orders to the others, demanding they stay sharp and seize a slimmer iron instrument. From Violet's position she saw how they had broken the large padlock that held the doors but they remained sealed.

"Why won't it open?"

"The _fucking_ thing is _cursed_, _the_ _whole fucking place is fucking cursed_. The _fucking ghosts_ _don't_ _fucking want us fucking with it_,"

Violet's ears stung under the weight of the scoundrel's obscenities but he was soon overpowered by the draw of the rim of a brown glass bottle to his lips. These men were easily the best and finest Blackmoor had to offer the Empire, the ale-guzzling monstrosities who were probably the product of inbreeding and paranoia, and they found their amusement in grave robbing. She assumed that the lack of cranial prowess gave way to physical strength, hence why Mason was still prying at the doors. He grunted and swore until he gave a triumphant gasp and suddenly the men were animated and all gathered about the door. They blocked her view but soon parted to help Mason pull the heavy doors apart. The stone doors groaned and scraped until there was enough room for the ringleader to get his broad shoulders through but all were met with a rush of air.

Mason gave an annoyed glance over his shoulder at the sound of their coughing and ordered they seize the lanterns. He did not wait to see if they obeyed, for it was given that they would and with a crowbar still in hand he crossed the threshold. Some of the men eagerly followed him while others argued over the formalities of who would enter first, daring one another and testing one another's masculinity. Only when two were left outside and they realized they were alone in the eerie darkness did they hurry along.

Violet had easily lost track of the minutes and she was sure that Sally was raising a small battalion to rush in to her rescue. Common sense would dictate, nay demand she slip back while out of danger of being seen, then tell the men to come straight away and send one to summon the closest available constable. But the urge to see what these men were truly up to was far more seductive. Clutching handfuls of her gown and robe, she moved around the hedges and crept up to the side of the stairs. From there she saw nothing, no lights and it occurred to her that the mausoleum was far larger than she'd previously thought.

The dampness of her clothes was growing cold with the fabric tangling around her ankles and her slippers were ruined. She was actually more afraid of the consequences of when Ms. Tillingham discovered her soiled garments and footwear than confronting a band of ruffians in the middle of the night. Looking over her shoulder where the full moon hung luminous and almost foreboding but she couldn't resist the temptation to proceed. If she succeeded she could resign herself to the dismal prison of marriage and child-rearing, she should at least have the opportunity to taste danger and not spit it out. If men could live this freely and foolishly then why could she not have a sliver of that experience this once?

However every fiber of her being screamed and demanded that she backtrack now before she was discovered but she summoned her courage, or the residue thereof and crawled away from her spot and slipped across the cold stone until she entered the inner sanctuary of the crypt. Mementos and shrines were sitting in dusty archways carved from the walls and spiders and rodents had claimed most of the space including the ancient coffins that resided there. In the center of the room was a sarcophagus; licking her lips that had gone dry, she rose to her feet and took in the delicately fashioned effigy of a woman lying on her side, her unseeing pupils bore into Violet's. But not a particle of dirt clung to this woman's final resting place. The lovely effigy, though made of marble, almost appeared breathing and none of the buffoons dared touch her, their reverence was surprising yet understandable. Above the dome of the tomb was opened to silver moonlight that bathed the woman in its glow and Violet took a step back as she sucked in air roughly, realizing that she had already made this woman's acquaintance. Her mind flashed to the burning portrait over the restored mantle and the apparition in the garden. This woman's beauty had haunted her and now Violet took into herself the reality that something was desperately wrong with Talbot Hall.

"What happened to you that you would leave such an impression on this estate? Who were you?"

She knelt down and peered at the etching in the stone and discovered the name, 'Olivia Talbot'.

"_Beloved wife, devoted mother and mistress of Talbot Hall_," Violet read aloud in a whisper.

As she pondered all of this in the background she could hear the men's carousing further along until it erupted with the sound of drunken victory and the clang of iron against iron. She brushed her fingertips across the lady's name in reverence and then pressed them to her lips. This was her family and she'd simply come too far.

Beyond the antechamber was a stone stairwell that wound down to a second level. She assumed generations of the Talbot family were resting here and yet these men seemed hell-bent on locating one in particular. Violet pressed herself against the stone wall and bit her lip as if that would prevent her from making a sound. She found a good vantage point where she could look over her shoulder but remain unseen. From there she was the strangest of sights—a large but worn leather chair with a smug-faced Mason lounging while someone attempted to break open a black iron coffin. The oblong shape and length meant that this coffin belonged to a large person, most likely a man and there seemed to be no adornments to be seen. No one had cared for the occupant, no elevated stone platform or archway to hold the person's memory in honor. Just cast on the filthy floor, an after-thought to the ages to all but the men rallying around it. Unable to contain himself Mason leapt to his feet and gladly seized his crowbar from one of his minions and slammed it beneath the face board. The whine of the nails and the old metal rippled into Violet, as if she lay inside the decayed box, as if she knew the deceased and this abhorrent act repulsed her all the more. Yet the wave of cowardice that washed over her was worse and just as Violet's brain proclaimed victory over her heart, her fortunes abandoned and betrayed her.

"_Get the fucking lid off_, I wanna see the _bastard's rotting face_ before we—"

"Hey, Mason! Look what I got!"

The drunkard was upon her before she had time to react, grabbing her robe and gown about the shoulder and like a land-walking octopus, he hoisted her up for all to see. Immediately all eyes were on her, their eyes grabbing where they soon hoped to place their hands, grins and snickers, whistles and lustful groans filled Violet with dread and she was completely at a disadvantage. Her tiny fingernails and pitiful kicks did nothing but to further enliven the rowdy bunch and with no weapon she was completely defenseless.

"You know who this is? It's that _Talbot bitch!_ Come to have her a little family reunion she did!" Violet screeched as she fought him, only to have resounding laughter echo in her face.

"What should we do with her?" someone asked.

"I know exactly what to do with the little trollop," another man answered, smirking as Violet sputtered.

But the laughter died with the last of Violet's resolve as Mason stepped through his companions and all fell quiet as he demanded she be brought to witness the unveiling of her true family. The lid was ripped open and she was thrust into the waiting arms of the ringleader and the arrogant look on his face caused a fresh burst of color to bloom in her cheeks. He smelled strongly of cheap cigarettes and alcohol and the stale air did nothing to alleviate him of the stench of perspiration. His body felt hard like he came from the same quarry that the stone that the crypt was constructed from. His grip wasn't tight but it wasn't welcome either and his expression was filled with the promise of something ungodly before he turned his attention to the opened coffin. As the lid was removed and the men's curiosity was heightened everyone made a collective gasp.

Violet felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes as Mason bade her to look upon her 'most beloved relative'. The flesh was not completely gone but was black, shriveled like burnt parchment. The mouth was gaping in a wide grotesque silent scream, the hands curled and gnarled. This man had suffered greatly before he drew his last breath, and yet these men had hoped to cause him more. Violet inwardly scolded herself for her failure to protect a man she'd never met, whom she'd never known existed but the tears fell nonetheless. The smell of decomposition didn't rise from the corpse as one might expect, instead there was the subtle aroma of something Violet hadn't encountered in ages.

Wolfsbane.

"Look there girl, look at the one who destroyed Blackmoor, that destroyed our grandfathers, fathers and uncles. He is the one that maimed and killed good man and drank their blood and gorged upon flesh. _He ruined our lives and now we will exact our revenge!"_

Violet heard the strain in Mason's voice, the sound belonged to a man hell bent on a crusade and he believed this would end the pain and vanquish the demons he'd always lived with, but she knew that was ridiculous and would only serve as a short term solution. No matter what this dead man had allegedly done in life would not reattach limbs or resurrect the dead. Yet Blackmoor was obviously a town steeped in a never-ending cloud of grief that probably comprised the heavy fog that swirled around the town.

"What you men are doing is wrong and there is no way you will avoid punishment if you continue. You have trespassed on my father's land, broken into a tomb and violated the resting place of a—"

"_Of a fucking monster_!"

She saw the mirth leave the men's faces and her stomach plummeted to her feet. They didn't want to hear logic and she created a new, warm and living vessel to press their frustrations and rage upon and Mason was the first to instigate.

"Violation is what we come here to do and since this place has plenty of room, what say you men to some fun before we throw this Talbot bitch in with the rest?"

Cheers rose up and before Violet could utter a word, Mason took her by the throat and dragged her gown to her knees. She choked and sobbed as he squeezed to the point her skin bruised and her eyes rolled and struggled pathetically as he pressed her over the coffin, pressed her over the body while drinking in the intoxication of his dominance.

"Go on, you fucking whore! _Kiss him_ and in a short while you'll join him!" Mason bellowed.

Violet shrieked and scratched to free herself from the drunken behemoth's clutches and colors and lights danced before her eyes. When she thought the bones in her neck would break he released her just long enough to strip her of her robe and tossed it aside. Violet drew in air as her body burned for it and it didn't register that she was lying on the skeletal torso that her flesh and hair was mixing with his. Her labored coughs racked her body but these men weren't going to just have a little round of their so-called fun and let her go. They intended to kill her and pretend they know nothing of her fate.

"_Please…someone…help!_" she whimpered.

No one would hear or care. Sally hadn't followed her and no help had come, she was at the mercy of this gaggle of vigilantes and because she somehow was related to the Talbots they had absolutely no mercy for her.

With a hand that shook she clasped the charm of her necklace and murmured to the Heavens for a quick and painless demise but rough hands were upon her within seconds, so fast that her necklace tangled in the corpse's fingers, breaking it as she was wrenched to the floor and unceremoniously dragged off. The men reared in laughter as Mason pulled her by her arm across the stone floor and up the stairs. She cried as she hit the granite structures and the rest of the men took hold of her feet.

"Bet this pretty bitch never had a nice cock in her,"

"Fresh cunt for everyone!"

"I'm going stretch that—"

"_No!_"

None of them seemed to hear her and soon they were at the mouth of the mausoleum and Mason looked over his shoulder to declare Violet his to use first before he dumped her onto the steps. She rolled until she hit the cobbled walkway below and spat blood; crawling was all she could do and yet that proved futile. Like a pack of wild animals they circled her and blocked every avenue of escape. Blood trickled down her face, her hands and her arms and legs were scratched but her torment had just begun. She was reduced to a weak and sniveling creature, prey to be devoured as she heard his heavy footsteps on the granite.

The self-satisfied grin spread across his face as he descended, both hands undoing his trousers. He barked for the men to restrain her and Violet cried out again for someone to rescue her as steel-hard hands pulled her aching arms down and forced her legs apart. The men licked their lips in anticipation, urged their leader on so they could partake. Mason responded in kind by leaping on top of Violet crushing her with his weight and inhaling the sweet scent of her. For a moment he hesitated and saw the fear shining her eyes but he would finish what he started for this would vindicate his people, right or wrong. The Talbots had savagely taken from him and he would return the blessing and relish every minute of it.

"Please sir, I've done nothing, _please let me go_," Violet pleaded hoarsely.

Her voice draw him from the fog in his mind and with a sneer he grasped the collar her nightgown and tore the fabric down, exposing her completely to the cold autumn air and her molesters' gaze. Violet was prostrate, the effort to fight was gone as was her pride and dignity as soon her honor with them. Wordlessly she turned her face to concentrate on the moon that had been silver before but when a cloud slipped over it and glided away it had turned to a blood red orb that hung in the sky, the same that her mother had always loved, that always comforted her whenever she suffered a horrible nightmare. Violet knew the one she was living now would be her worst and her last. She would at least be reunited with her mother and with that thought she could bear feeling his sex press against her thigh. She prayed that her heart would give out before he plunged in.

His hot deplorable breath was in her face and just when she thought the bastard would take his conquest, a sound that chilled everyone into silence and seemed to freeze the blood in their veins launched from the entrance of the mausoleum. Mason jerked up from Violet and leapt to his feet, the alcohol disappeared from their stomachs and the zest from their loins. Trepidation thickened the air and no one dared to move as a cloud crossed the moon and cast them into darkness. Mason soon commanded everyone to ready their weapons and Violet was left forgotten on the ground. Someone asked if perhaps it was an animal like a dog while others made the sign of the cross.

"Do you think?"

"_Mother of God_,"

"_What have we done_?"

Violet heard all of this but the searing pain in her chest distracted her from fearing as the men were; she otherwise would have been immensely thankful for the reprieve.

"Oh, it's nothing just the damn whisky playing tricks on all of yous," one of the shamblers shouted. "Look I'll show you scared little rabbits it's nothing."

The one named Colin brushed aside his shoulders who attempted to stop him, calling them cowards as he swayed, took one of their lamps and bounded up the stairs and disappeared into the catacombs. His friends stared worriedly at one another as they listened to Colin whistle a tune they all sung at the tavern called the 'Ladies of Dover'. They watched the glow of his lamp shrink into the dark depths and slowly tried to summon some of the brass their colleague displayed. They were all still tense and clutching their weapons before the sound of Colin's raspy voice called out to them.

"All you bawling babies can relax, ain't nothing happening down here."

The collective sigh of relief went up as Colin appeared at the entrance, his yellowed smile visible next to the lamp. He held up Violet's necklace and croaked that he found it at the bottom of the lady's memorial. Instantly Violent felt a jolt of her energy and her brain whirled. There was no way the necklace could have fallen there; it was wrenched from her neck when Mason pulled her from the corpse. Despite the damp hair in her face and her blurred vision she could see the charm sparkling from the chain in the ruffian's hand. Everyone around her was laughing but Violet's anxiety spiked, a force that only she seemed to feel and it repelled her. Like an invisible warning to take the chance and flee for her life. On limbs that resisted she slowly backed toward the hedges but her eyes remained fixed on the charm.

"I'll wear it as a trophy while I sink my cock into—_aagghh_!"

Colin lurched forward and stopped, his body suspended on the edge of the step. His fingers lost their grip and the charm and lamp slipped, the lamp smashing to a thousand pieces. The ribcage was splintered and shards of bone pierced every organ as the arm, wrists and claws displaced and rearranged the chest cavity. Colin's eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared down at the bloody arm that wasn't there before, and darkness overran his eyes. From behind him the snarl crescendoed into an all out howl that sent shudders through everyone and caused almost every trouser to moisten. The cloud slid away and the moon's glow illuminated every inch of the mausoleum until it seemed the stone was bleeding.

And then the monster revealed itself, the enormous canines gleaming, the yellow eyes focused and the ebony mane shining. The beast stared down at the gang and no one dared to breathe. Violet hadn't stopped however and just as she reached the hedge she heard the roar echo again. The beast dropped his jaw, dropped the dead man and leapt from the stairs. Every man rushed and stumbled back and headed off in every direction. This was what she was told to run from and the adrenaline began to surge within, determination drove her to her sore feet and the panic set in. She could hear the hollers of the men behind and beside her as they fled, many screams dissolving into strangled cries. Whatever had killed Colin was deathly fast and she hurried toward Talbot Hall; she could see even from that distance that there were several lights now on in the windows, meaning someone was awake and perhaps aware of a disturbance. Maybe Sally had managed to rustle together help, but before she could gather hope, Violet tripped and smashed hard on the slick lawn. For a moment she was disoriented and thought she had clumsily stumbled upon a raised tree root or the torn remnant of her gown but her eyes bulged when she looked over her shoulder.

"_Oh God, oh God, oh God_," the man rambled with bloody lips.

Violet watched the man they called Benny tremble and reach weakly, pulling at his trousers. He was crying pitifully as he tried in vain to reattach his legs to the rest of his torso. His intestines spilled out everywhere from where he had been severed in half. Violet crawled away and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the bile from rising, fresh tears sprang from her eyes as the terror engulfed her and forced her back to her feet to sprint on. Her ears rung with the wails of the wounded and dying and the moon was bright enough to lighten her path as well as showing her the horrendous carnage falling all around her. Arms and legs ripped from bodies, fingers still sentient and digging into the blood-drenched earth. Gunshots blasted in the shadows, bursts of fire that ended in curses and gurgling where blood rushed from sliced throats. The mass confusion permeated and friends attacked friend fearing the other was the beast that prowled with supernatural speed. Violet dodged the remains of Blackmoor's sons and tried to keep low enough should a stray bullet came whizzing by that seemed to come from all directions. But in the malay she had traveled further from the manor and found herself at a small creek that wound its way through the grounds. Behind her the deafening howl sounded and men, a few still alive shouted to retreat back into the town, their comrades abandoned in pieces and strewn about like broken dolls. Dirt and foliage clung to destroyed gown and her slippers had disintegrated over the rocks and dead logs that littered the ground.

She couldn't wait for the men from the house to come and she couldn't wait for the monster to discover her either leaving her only one option and that was to leap into the torrent and hope that she could maneuver toward safety. Her father had forbade she learn to swim and she didn't know the depth of the water, whether the current would suck her under. Death was on all sides and her search for adventure was taking a dismal turn and as she placed her foot on the bank, Violet decided to take another risk.

"Father God, forgive me should I die and preserve me should you care to let me live," she whispered.

The moon shined over the rapid moving stream and she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. "Do it, Violet, jump in," she chided herself but hesitated.

Her throat constricted and her hands clenched, her feet rooted to their spot. The wind enveloped her and brought with it the smell of gun smoke and putrid odors that she couldn't recognize and then the hairs on Violet's neck stood up. She turned and saw a man stumbling toward her, his pallor ghostly white and his hair matted to his head. He couldn't have been more than thirty years old and as he reached out a weak hand, in that moment Violet forgot her own welfare and went to him.

"_We have awakened the beast,"_ the man muttered, not looking at Violet but still grasping her arm with his waning strength.

"How? What is this beast and was he in the tomb this whole time?" Violet asked as she took on his weight.

"He killed our people twenty years ago and now he's back and we angered him. We are all cursed to die, Miss, _he'll kill us all!_"

"That monster,"

"_Talbot…_" the man's voice dropped to a whisper and his glistening eyes gazed into hers. "He was cursed and became the beast that killed every time the moon was full and he died and now he's back. It's all our fault, _all our fault_."

"The men from the house are coming so just hold on a little longer, sir." Violet pleaded with tears rushing to her own eyes.

"Miss, please forgive us for the terror we unleashed on the world. He was killed once before and only a person pure of heart can put things right!"

Violet couldn't comprehend the man's incessant babblings and hoped to steady him by placing a hand to his back, only to recoil when something warm and wet coated her palm and fingers. When she slowly withdrew it her bottom lip began to quiver and again their eyes locked; the brown orbs began to glaze and when she took a step back he fell to his knees and slumped over. The back of his shirt, jacket and trousers had been stripped off, the flesh flailed from his body and blood puddle around his feet and ankles. The back of his head and neck were gone, the brain and spinal cord exposed to the night air and Violet felt a numbness steal into her. Consternation circled around her but she wouldn't focus on the warning as two glowing yellow eyes blazed in the black woods, boring into hers as the beast of any child's nightmare materialized and crept toward her on all fours, the size of a large bear or lion. The thickness of his fur was so sleek that Violet nearly reached out to touch it had she not felt the urge to run. The creek was to her back and to her front something else was stirring, something that sent a small yet growing electric pulse that traveled through the atmosphere, something she was sure the monster sensed as well. The damp black nostrils flared wide and in time with Violet's erratic breathing. Saliva dripped from the monster's open mouth, revealing white fanged teeth that were stained with crimson. Those powerful jaws had locked around throats and crushed down on bones, severed vocal cords to suppress the preys' screams and the blood flow was relentless. It coated his muzzle and even though this massive creature epitomized brute force and gruesome tidings, Violet didn't take a step back.

The monster had caught her scent and instead of lurching forward and tearing her apart, he stalked up out of the wood line and closer to the bank. It disregarded the corpse lying on the ground but rounded it and approached on sturdy legs, the muscles visibly rippling in each leg, the paws so large that they were easily capable of pounding her into the dirt with little effort. This beast was taking its time, something it had not done with all its other victims and still Violet didn't turn to flee. Instead she bit her lip and sunk into her knees in a show of surrender and her heart ceased its rapid tattoo and resumed a normal one. The air puffed and vanished before her face but this time was joined by another low growl that reverberated through her and again she disturbingly felt no fear. Their eyes locked and time began to slow as the beast seemed to be examining her face, her entire being and suddenly the dead man's words came roaring into her mind. Blinking she leant in so only a few millimeters separated her nose from his snout.

"_T-Talbot?_"

Without warning all breathing stopped and the beast reared back and dug its claws into the dirt and rocks, ears perked and his spine went rigid in a predatory stance. Tendons and muscles shifted and before she could inhale the beast charged his jaws opened to unleash a growl so furious, so intense that the ground beneath them shuddered and the last thing Violet saw was the bright glint of those saffron eyes as he descended upon her.

**Still with me? Was that fun? I'm learning how to write suspense better and I think that I'm growing. I'm just as excited to see what happens next as you are!**


	5. Chapter 5

**~*Author's Note*~**

**First I would like to thank everyone for their condolences on the loss of my Grandmother. You are all very kind and I am happy to report that my family is doing well. I've been piecing together the next few parts of the story rather slowly because I really want to work on a sequel to 'Under the Harvest Moon'. But I love this story as well and it's time to update it. So I hope you all enjoy it!**

Screams.

Her ear drums were exploding under the magnitude of the unbearable screams. Severed limbs crawling and grabbing at her feet as she fled the screams, bloody hands tore at the hem of her ruined gown, threatening to pull her down. She could hear the heavy thud of something or someone who followed her at a break neck speed. Sweat blossomed across her body as she sprinted through the dark woods that seemed endless. There was no place to hide and she could hear the growl behind her, only a few paces back. The hot breath was on her nape and she dared to not look over her shoulder because then the terror would be real. And all the while the screams would not stop, just would not stop.

"_Violet! Violet!_" The beast growled and when she looked back she saw the yellow eyes blazing, the teeth bared.

"_No!_"

"_Violet! Wake up! Violet, wake up!_"

Still she continued to run and the beast vocalized her name, causing a fresh spring of fear to burst in her stomach. And then just when she thought she had placed some distance between herself and the blood-thirsty monster its jaws clamped down on her shoulder, wrenching her back and shaking her with such vigor that she realized that they were all her own.

With a sharp intake of breath Violet sat up, her arms and legs flailing until two strong hands gripped her shoulders and forced her down onto something soft but she could not catch her breath, could not comprehend where she was or where the beast was. Her eyes darted about and there was a haze in front of her eyes but even in her panic she quickly recognized her tutor and her governess. If they were here then she was no longer in the woods and if they showed no anxiety then all was well. Indeed she was in her bedroom, sitting on her plush mattress and clad in another night gown. The only expression either employee presented was deep concern. But she had been asleep and she was alive—so was it all a nightmare?

"Violet, darling, it's all right now, you're safe sweetheart." Mary said soothingly.

Mr. Harris brought a tea cup to her lips and at first she resisted until he pressed her and this time she took a few sips until he was satisfied. Behind Mary she saw a timid Sally wringing out a damp cloth in a basin and stepped forward to wipe the perspiration from Violet's neck, cheeks and brow. All three had held vigil over her for some time hoping she would rouse herself and then the trauma encompassed her and yet she was awake, much to their relief. Now they had to reorient her and keep her calm until the doctor could be summoned again. The elderly country doctor had sent word to three neighboring hamlets begging assistance to help tend to the wounded, furthermore the local constable was overwhelmed. The only survivors were unable to speak, struck dumb by what they had seen. Violet had been discovered unconscious by the water, suffering only minor scratches and bruises and a lump on her head. Her robe and gown were in tatters but she was otherwise untouched.

Sally had been nearly inconsolable when her companion was brought in from the woods pale and perhaps dead. The housekeeper called for the doctor and the authorities and once alerted in London within a few hours a frantic Mary and an enraged Mr. Harris were practically breaking down the doors in order to get to their charge. Neither had said anything about Mr. Pierce and Sally decided that was a matter for a different time. Violet's well-being was paramount and her true guardians were at her side and that was all that was required. In the meantime she wanted to help Violet by making her comfortable, plucked twigs and grass from her hair, cloth-washed the mud and debris from her feet and legs, and trying to maintain level breathing as she cringed at the reddish brown color that filled the basin. Another servant had needed to bring a fresh one with clean water twice and but now that Violet was awake the paranoid maid could breathe a sigh of relief.

"T-the monster…is…is it d-dead?" Violet croaked, her eyes moist and her threat constricted and burning.

"The constable has said that he would conduct interviews but he told us that whatever creature did this was still on the loose." Mr. Harris informed before refilling her tea cup.

Sally had added plenty of honey to the chamomile and Violet was thankful for it.

"Are any of our men injured or—"

"No, all are well and accounted for. They found you and brought you here but while they heard a howl they didn't find anything. With two search parties they did a thorough sweep but found only evidence of something large having been there. The men also helped retrieve victims and carried them into town. You've been unconscious but breathing for an entire day. The doctor said that it's common for people to lapse into a deep sleep, just the body's way of recovering from some major shock…"

Violet was trying to process all that had occurred but she was glad none of her employees had been hurt and she herself was alive. But this was not a bad dream and her friends were confirming that something still lurked and prowled and others had seen the brutality. She had only hoped to protect her family's land and prevent burglars from pillaging the mausoleum only to fail. She was almost raped and killed and as far as she was concerned she had had enough adventure to last a lifetime. The risk was too frightening and too great and now she understood why so many residents of Blackmoor lived in constant fear of anything unfamiliar; because it could mean uncontrollable, unstoppable death and destruction.

"What did you _think _you were doing out there in the _dead of the night_?" Mary exclaimed, causing Violet to wince at the older woman's word choice.

Violet opened her mouth and then closed it; there was no sense in explaining. Instead she turned her face away and the tears began to brim in her eyes. Mr. Harris gave the governess a deep scowl, silently warning her to not give the girl grief. He produced a handkerchief and dabbed her face and gave her an assuring smile. But it was lost on her because if she were to explain nothing would make a difference. Parts of what she'd experienced simply did not make any sense and she feared that if she shared it would disturb her loved ones further.

"The poor child could have died but God preserved her and for that we should be abundantly thankful. Though I wished Violet had not gone out last night, should have sent for the men of the household to investigate, but I commend her bravery for there are some who would have done less. We raised her thusly Mrs. Tillingham."

More tears fell from her eyes and she gladly allowed him to envelop her in the reassuring warmth and familiarity of his arms, cradled there as when she was a child. Mary's face grew sour and long, thoroughly chastised and yet it was done out of love. They were a true family unit that was not forged by employment and contract but through a deep connection. So when the messenger brought word to London and the governess and tutor learned that a great accident had befallen their charge a maternal and paternal instinct sparked to life and they hurried back to Talbot Hall. At Mr. Harris' behest they took turns sitting at Violet's bedside and promised to alert the household should her condition change. As Violet clung to her tutor she never thought to ask of her father's whereabouts and she was sure the man partially responsible for her conception could not comfort her like the man holding her could.

"I'll tell the cook to prepare some broth, something to restore your strength." Mrs. Tillingham muttered and rose to slip from the room.

Violet cuddled closer to her mentor and buried her face into his crisp white shirt and inhaled his unique scent. He smelled of old paper and autumn even during the summer months. She could not recall such closeness from her father.

"I'm proud of you that you stood your ground and tried to depend your father's interest and attempted to protect the dead, but promise me you won't do anything so risky again."

"You asked me that same thing the day we traveled to the sea shore and it was low tide. You claimed that that was far 'too risky' as well," Violet retorted with a sniffle.

"Yes that is true but this time I really mean it. Now I want you to remain inside unless if you have two armed men with you. Not until the authorities can make sense of all of this and until that beast is either captured or killed and especially not until the fervor in Blackmoor dies down."

"Fervor?" Sally squeaked.

Mr. Harris settled Violet back over the pillows and Sally, with a nod of approval took a chair and dried her hands on her apron. He took another handkerchief to blot his moist upper lip and brow before explaining cautiously that Blackmoor was in an uproar over the scourge that was unleashed the previous night. The town had suffered an almost exact trauma nearly twenty years prior and a mass hysteria had already settled in. The reports from the men returning after the rescue mission stated that many of the townspeople had started taking measures to defend themselves, some of which they considered 'bizarre' and 'sacrilegious'.

"How so?" Sally interjected.

Mr. Harris fiddled with one of his shirt sleeves before describing accounts of men and women melting any and all silver materials, even silver crucifixes in order to create blades and bullets. Some of the poor fools, as he called them, had learned some of their prized possessions were more nickel and therefore could not secure the necessary element for their protection. The two girls exchanged puzzled expressions and again the genteel scholar fidgeted nervously.

"Violet these people are a superstitious folk, who have never known the world beyond their established borders. Anything they don't understand, anything foreign is treated like a plague. You've seen how they reacted to our arrival that first evening—they were cold and stand offish to a disrespectful degree. Now a real threat has come to their doorstep and they believe it's the equivalent of the Angel of Death of the Old Testament."

"I saw the beast responsible and it was definitely not an angel," Violet muttered, "and I don't see how silver bullets could stop this creature when regular bullets didn't."

"Are you certain the creature was shot? Perhaps the men missed." Sally asked with her knuckles white from clutching her apron.

"Oh they shot it alright but it didn't faze it at all. Even the most inebriated amongst them could have easily grazed it to potentially slow it down but instead it made the beast angrier and it never stopped."

Sally and Mr. Harris shuddered visibly while Violet appeared lost in her own thoughts. The beast had stared into her eyes and looked into her and yet when she fainted it did not tear her to pieces. Perhaps because she was unarmed and therefore was not perceived as a threat or maybe its appetite was sate by that point.

"How many men survived?"

Sally's question drew Violet out of her head and she looked for her tutor's answer.

"Only eight are alive out of the alleged fourteen that we know of who came here. Only five are well…whole shall we say."

"_Whole?_" the girls said in unison.

"Physically whole I mean," Mr. Harris continued. "The five I'm referring to did not lose any arms, legs or heads. Only three are able to openly speak about what occurred and that's a very recent development. The constable who arrived this afternoon was able to convey that much."

"Constable?" Violet asked and Sally explained that the authorities had wanted to take down her mistress' statement but she was still unconscious at the time.

"Mrs. Tillingham had been adamant that you be left to rest and while the man did leave he was of a stubborn sort and he will definitely be back again."

Violet wasn't sure what to make of these circumstances but she felt more at ease when they reassured her that she was in no trouble. Apparently none of the men had made claims that she had committed any criminal acts, but at the same time she wondered what had these men admitted to; did they explain the reasons why they were near Talbot Hall? She was positive that when this constable returned he would demand answers and she would do likewise.

"Violet I'm sorry I didn't come after you when you went out, I—"

"No, no don't apologize. I'm glad you didn't Sally. Those men were intoxicated and out of their wits before the beast even appeared. I'd be lost if something happened to you…"

Her voice trailed off and soon the two were in each other's arms, sobbing and the color in Mr. Harris' face rose.

"Violet did any of those men try to manhandle you?"

At first she couldn't speak or even make eye contact but reluctantly she managed to nod and when pressed she explained that they had failed, ultimately because the beast materialized. The irony of how it had not only spared her life but also thwarted her would be rapists hung in the air. Mr. Harris instructed her to mention this to the constable but to not dwell on it considering the frantic ambiance surrounding Blackmoor. Violet understood and the three swore to keep it a secret from Mrs. Tillingham for the time being.

"Lord knows she's on pins and needles already," Mr. Harris mumbled under his breath.

"Who are the men who were able to speak? The ones who have not gone insane?" Violet asked after a long pause.

"That we don't know, or rather the constable did not say openly because there is a budding investigation but I'm sure the names will surface soon due to the small size of Blackmoor. Everyone will want to know and secrets are impossible to keep when people live in such a place." Mr. Harris surmised, hinting at his own curiosity.

"I understand that," Sally began in a sheepish tone. "My hometown is located further south of here and people always know each other's business. But it must have been some sort of wild animal or maybe it escaped from a zoo or circus."

"Maybe, it wasn't a lion because it was all black and it didn't look like a bear really either. As far as I'm concerned it could have been a—"

"_It was a werewolf!_"

The cold creek water was refreshing and sweet just what he longed for. Without thinking and acting on the natural impulse to quench a burning thirst, he dunked his head into the swirling clear water. The soreness of his throat and the dryness of his tongue vanished with each long slurp he inhaled. Breathing was an afterthought but his body told him to withdraw long enough to fill his lungs with the crisp cool air before submerging his face again.

Earlier that morning the twinkling light through the trees had awakened him and suddenly an insatiable hunger tore through his stomach and paralyzed him. It rose up to punch him squarely in the gut, holding on with an iron force and urged him to end the torment immediately. Soaking wet he pulled away from the water's edge and watched the area for prey—any prey to devour and make the pain end. With nostrils flared and drawing in any available scent, whatever potential meal came wafting by. In seconds he detected something fresh and bleeding and with a suppressed growl he darted in the direction of his would be target. Dead leaves disintegrated into damp dust under the power of his feet. Twigs, decomposing logs all crunched and whined as he passed, moving faster than the breeze that swept along.

And then he came upon the object of his desire and sniffed the unmistakable scent of decaying flesh. His eyes were blurred by the haze that clouded around him, but his other senses lead him and soon he was gnawing on the bruised flesh, the sinews and viscera filling his mouth so quickly that he groaned inwardly when he'd stripped the bone. However he sensed there was more and followed the incessant buzz of flies and soon he was gorging again and tasted the slime and maggots without a care. The ravenous hunger was alleviated and the haze began to depart from his eyes. It was midday and the trees were mostly bald and swaying lazily. Last night they had seen the carnage and yet nature seemed unaffected and until now they had concealed the horrid scene in a thick shade but now anyone unfortunate enough would find the remains of this tragedy.

His eyes adjusted to the point where he was able to truly see the scene around him, the rotting entrails in his mouth nearly choked him as he swallowed. The man had already been in pieces and now he was almost entirely obliterated after fingernails and canine teeth tore through him. Scraps of fabric of what used to be the dead man's clothes littered the ground, dyed a dark brown from all of dried blood. His face told anyone who gazed upon it that his final moments had been nothing less than sheer terror. His stomach cavity was torn apart with a ferocious slash that cut the skin to ribbons. Apparently something had begun to eat the soft tissue. But not just any typical animal like a vulture but something larger. Undoubtedly the very same animal that had killed the man and left him to suffer until the pain and blood loss forced him to succumb. And out of nowhere he felt a rude stab of reality, of hard truth resounding through him.

Looking down at his hands, that appeared initially normal yet coated in blood. He was stark naked and as a wave of bile rose up in his throat, he understood now he had come to be there, how all of this had happened. Disregarding the half eaten corpse, he turned back toward the creek. Hesitation only slowed him when he fell to his hands and knees and stared at his reflection, taunting him with a sobering realization.

_"I-I'm…alive!"_

**I hope you all enjoyed this latest installment. I want to dedicate this chapter to nightchildx. I am deeply sorry for your loss and my prayers are with you and your family. Again thank you all who have sent me messages and favored this story I hope I didn't let you down. But I need your help…How should I introduce Violet to man inside the beast? What should I do to Mason? Let me hear your thoughts!**

'**Til next time! **

**XOXO**


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